


Game of Shadows:  The Beginning

by Adihsar



Category: Forbidden Game - L. J. Smith, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Board Games, Cat and Mouse, Demons, Enemies, F/M, Fear Play, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Magic, Mind Games, One-Sided Relationship, Pedophilia, Shadow!verse, Unresolved Sexual Tension, dependent relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adihsar/pseuds/Adihsar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DISCONTINUED!!! THIS FIC IS UNFORTUNATELY DISCONTINUED.  Back when I was writing steadily on this story, my mom ended up with breast cancer a second time. Life became hectic and my priority was taking care of her. Then my laptop crashed--with all my story notes and chapters on it. I didn't have a flash drive, so it was all gone.  And by that time I was no longer hugely into STEREK. I apologize, but this fic will not be continued.  I had mentioned this in the notes, but I am putting it up here as well. Sorry everyone.  :( </p><p>Story summary: It was just supposed to be a stupid game.  Something different Lydia cooked up to do for his 17th birthday.</p><p> </p><p>When Stiles meets Derek, he's immediately attracted.  What he <i>doesn't</i> know is that Derek is a member of an ancient race of shadow demons and he is completely obsessed with Stiles.  And Derek will stop at nothing to get what he wants.</p><p> </p><p>Stiles and his friends are about to find out just how <i>real</i> the game can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Shhhhhhh."

**Author's Note:**

> I was sitting there and thinking about L.J. Smith's _The Forbidden Game_ Trilogy and wondering if I can incorporate Teen Wolf into that somehow. I really love that series and I really love TW, so I hope I can do this mash up justice. I am not completely copying L.J.'s format, but there will be many things similar to her original plot, so all of that belongs to her. Any original themes, plot lines and characters belong to me. And of course TW belongs to Jeff Davis. :)
> 
> The pedophilia tag is referring to a scene in the prologue and some could find it disturbing, so please read with caution. After that, there will be no more scenes of that nature. 
> 
> I am still new to writing in this fandom, so please if you see any mistakes or have any concerns, please let me know. And of course, by all means leave constructive criticism. :)

November 2004

 

The day that Stiles' innocence was almost taken away he was being watched. 

Of course Stiles was unaware of any impending danger. He was too busy running around with Scott and trying to pelt him with popcorn; their shrieks of laughter echoing across the fairgrounds. Scott retaliated by chucking torn pieces of pretzel at his friend, his birthday hat--complete with a big number nine imprinted on it--sitting askew on his dark curls. Stiles had long since removed his own hat and pawned it off on his poor mother, as most parents who become their children's walking trash receptacles, are doomed to do.

Stiles dodged around an elderly couple getting in line at the ferris wheel and lobbed a handful of buttery popcorn in Scott's direction. "Take that, Scott! Bet you can't hit me back." He whirled around and caught sight of Scott's maternal cousin Isaac watching them both. He had curly hair just like Scott's, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Scott was dark haired and lively, Isaac was sandy haired and grim faced. He was a lanky, pale slip of a thing and not much fun if Stiles had anything to say about it. He'd only met Isaac twice, but he didn't speak much and, when he did, it was this terrible sort of whisper--as if he were afraid to speak too loud. Scott swore that his cousin was cool, however, and Stiles was determined to extend his offer of friendship. Besides it wasn't like he could get rid of Isaac as he and his dad just moved to Beacon Hills.

"Come play with us, man!" Stiles called out, a bright smile on his face. Isaac almost looked as if he was going to, but then his father appeared behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and he tensed right on up.

"Isaac gets sick if he gets too overheated, Stiles. Isn't that right, Isaac?" Mr. Lahey grinned down at his son as if sharing some inside joke, but there didn't seem to be anything all that funny about the situation in Stiles' opinion. He shot a look over to Scott, who had also come to a stop and was watching the proceedings with a concerned expression. Isaac was silent and Mr. Lahey's smile slipped just a fraction and he squeezed his son's shoulder. Stiles saw Isaac wince slightly and finally he nodded.

"That's right, Dad."

Mr. Lahey nodded in satisfaction. "But by all means, you and Scott play." He smiled. "See which one of you comes out... on top."

 _And that's not creepy at all._ Stiles thought as he exchanged another glance with Scott. Then he shrugged and put it out of his mind. Scott had told him that he thought his uncle was kind of strange, and the way Stiles figured it, it wasn't that uncommon a problem. Who nowadays _didn't_ have a strange relative in the family? Still, he felt a bit uneasy and for the rest of the day, whenever he happened to glance at Mr. Lahey, the man's eyes always seemed to be trained on him. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Boys, time to go!" Melissa McCall shouted while gathering up the remains of their picnic dinner. Annabelle, Stiles' mother, held open a huge trash bag and shook her head laughing.

 

"That's not going to work and you know it, Mel." She set the bag down, put her fingers in her mouth and sounded a sharp whistle that pierced the air and immediately brought Stiles and Scott to a halt--identical comical looks on their faces. "Don't give me those looks, it's time to go. Come help us clean up."

 

The two women chuckled as they heard identical groans. Annabelle covered the rest of Scott's birthday cake with foil and hummed contentedly. Her gaze wandered over to Isaac, who had been sitting quietly the entire time Stiles and Scott had been playing or going on the rides; dark eyes ever watching. She frowned. "How are things going with Isaac and Mason at the house?"

 

Melissa sighed heavily. "It's been...trying. Rick wasn't happy that they had to move in with us, no matter how temporary Mason assures me it's going to be. He just needs to find a decent job here and then he and Isaac can find their own place." She gazed at her solemn nephew as he silently helped Scott and Stiles, her brow furrowed in concern. "Rick and I have been arguing a lot lately about it, but how can he expect me to turn my own brother away? Especially after what happened with Isaac's mother. I was hoping he'd loosen up at Scott's party today, but I suspect it's going to take time."

 

Annabelle nodded, absentmindedly watching the pale boy as Mr. Lahey hovered around him. "Mason doesn't seem to let Isaac out of his sight." She tried to make the comment sound light, but it actually rubbed her wrong the way Isaac couldn't even seem to breathe without his father's permission.

 

"Yeah. I noticed that too. I think he's just as shaken up about what happened to his wife as Isaac is and it makes him clingy. Can you imagine? Some nutcase breaks in while you're at work and attacks your wife and son? Strangles her and makes Isaac watch? Mason told me that when he found out he felt so helpless." Melissa took in a shaky breath. "Poor kid. Mason said he was practically catatonic for weeks."

 

"And they never caught the guy, right?" Annabelle asked casually, wondering if being married to a deputy was making her see conspiracies everywhere. "Lucky the son of a bitch didn't touch Isaac."

 

Melissa nodded grimly. "Yes. Very lucky."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They were all leaving the fairgrounds that evening when everything went to hell.

 

Annabelle stumbled as she was walking just as Stiles piped up: "I have to go to the bathroom."

 

Mark Stilinksi sent an exasperated glance his son's way as he bent down to support his wife of eleven years. "Honey? What is it?"

 

"Dizzy. Head hurts." She clutched at her husband's arms to keep upright. "Just came on all of a sudden."

 

Mark looked around and saw a bench nearby, gently sitting his wife down on the hard surface and crouching to eye level in front of her. "Talk to me. Do you think it's something you ate?"

 

Melissa also crouched in front of Annabelle and checked her pulse; already in nurse mode. "Heartbeat is a little fast. You've been having a lot of dizzy spells lately..." She trailed off as she noticed her friend shaking her head rapidly, but the damage was already done. Mark sat back on his haunches and eyed his wife. 

 

"You've been having dizzy spells and I'm just now finding out about this? Why would you keep something like that from me--from your son?"

 

Stiles saw his mother's face crumple in on itself. "I didn't want to worry anyone if it was nothing serious, so I made an appointment at the hospital a few days ago."

 

"And what did the doctor say?"

 

"The results haven't come in yet. Mark, I'm so sorry. I really just didn't want to worry you and Stiles unnecessarily." She reached out and after a moment, Mark laced his fingers with hers and squeezed.

 

"I _always_ want to know if you're feeling ill. Okay? Forget about worrying me." He was going in for a hug when another wave of dizziness hit her and Annabelle swayed dangerously on the bench. Mark blanched and managed to grab her before she keeled over into the shrubbery. "Honey?"

 

Stiles was terrified. He'd never seen his mother in this state before and he felt a cold dread slowly start up inside his gut, branching out and threatening to swallow him alive. And worst of all, he still had to pee really bad. 

 

"Mom?" He said in a small voice. He ignored the growing pressure on his bladder and reached out to put a trembling hand on her shoulder. He felt helpless as he watched her lean heavily against his father looking faint. 

 

"I'm okay, honey." She said hoarsely. "Just a little dizzy, that's all. Didn't you need to go to the restroom? Your father can take you."

 

"He should have gone when we asked him to earlier." Mark snapped and Stiles flinched. His father was right, but that didn't mean his words didn't hurt. He also knew his dad didn't really mean them and was just worried about his mother. 

 

"I'll take him," Mr. Lahey said, effectively ending the discussion. "So that Mark can stay with Annabelle."

 

Stiles didn't know why he did it, but his eyes immediately sought out Isaac who was standing with Scott and Mr. McCall. Isaac was looking back at him already, as if he were expecting this all to happen. As if he knew some sort of secret that no one else knew and was just forced to go along with the script. He met Stiles' eyes solemnly, dark blue orbs boring into whiskey brown.

 

He shook his head. Just that. A slight shift from left to right, nothing more and nothing less and Stiles knew...he _knew_ instinctively to trust him. He knew what Isaac was telling him without words, there in the shining lights of the amusement park rides; there on the night of Scott's epic ninth birthday party.

 

Stiles knew Isaac was telling him not to go _anywhere_ alone with his father.

 

"That's okay, Mr. Lahey." Stiles muttered. "I'm not a baby, I can hold it." 

 

Mark took this moment to unknowingly damn his son into an impossible situation. "Stiles, your mother is ill and we are heading to the emergency room. We are an hour away from Beacon Hills and I'm not stopping at some gas station on the way for you to pee."

 

"You guys go on ahead to the hospital, Mark. Rick can drive your car so you can tend to Annabelle, and Mason and I will follow you guys with the kids when they get back from the restroom." Melissa said reasonably. 

 

Stiles sort of hated her in that moment. It made sense what she was saying, but she was also sticking him between a rock and a hard place. If he protested, everyone would look at him weird and his father would probably get irritated again. Before he could think of what to do, Mr. Lahey placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

 

"We better get moving, eh buddy?"

 

 _Not your buddy._ Stiles thought and he sent a panicked glance towards Isaac. Scott, bless his heart, was oblivious to everything but the drama going on with Annabelle. And while Stiles would usually be feeling pretty fond of his best friend for being so concerned about his mother, he was kind of in a serious predicament here himself. Helplessly he let Mr. Lahey lead him away, the man's huge hand heavy on his shoulder like a warning.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Even though Stiles was only nine, he was very aware of the bad things that people were capable of partly due to his father's profession as a deputy sheriff and partly due to watching _America's Most Wanted_ in secret. If his mother ever found out he was looking at that show she'd probably have a heart attack, because she wanted to keep Stiles her innocent baby boy for as long as possible, and his father wanted Stiles to be as safe as possible. And sometimes, to be safe, you had to know things that were horrible. Things that sometimes had his father look so grim that when he came home from work, the first thing he'd do was grab Stiles up in a hug and hold him for long minutes at a time. Around the age of eight, Stiles had started finding that hugging his parents was icky gross and so uncool, but at these particular moments, he allowed his father this--anything to get that haunted look out of his eyes.

 

But Stiles' father hadn't just told him some of the terrible things that people did to each other, he also made time every week to teach his only son some basic self defense techniques. Mark wasn't trying to turn Stiles into some kind of warrior, but he did want him to know how to defend himself if the situation called for it.

 

Like now.

 

Stiles was terrified. He knew he was just operating on assumptions here, that he really had no proof other than Isaac's panicked eyes following after him, but although Stiles was many things, a fool was not one of them, and the look Isaac sent him meant that he assumed bad things were going to happen to Stiles in the near future.

 

Oh God.

 

When they were out of sight of the others, Stiles shrugged Mr. Lahey's hand off of his shoulders before the man could react. He sent an almost challenging look at the older man and muttered, "I can walk myself." He spotted the nearby restroom, the one closest to the park's main exit, and made a beeline towards the men's room, when a park employee blocked the doors. Stiles pulled up short and gaped in frustration. "Hey, sir, I really need to go."

 

The man, whose name tag said _Garrett_ , shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, kid, some jackass--excuse my language--stuffed paper towels in the sink and flooded the floor. No one's gonna be using this bathroom for the rest of the night. The park closes in twenty minutes though, so you and you dad can probably make it to one of the other ones before we gotta start closing them down."

 

"Oh, he's not my dad." Stiles said loudly on purpose, knowing Mr. Lahey was close enough now to hear. "Thanks, mister!" Stiles took off towards the middle of the park where he remembered another restroom was located. He ignored Mr. Lahey calling after him and pumped his legs faster. His plan was simple: 

 

 

1) Lose Mr. Lahey in the crowd

 

2) Head for the next nearest bathroom--and soon--because he had to piss like _whoa_

 

3) Be done before Mr. Lahey catches up to him and can't corner him alone somewhere.

 

 

All Stiles could think about was the look on Isaac's face. The kind of look that shouldn't be on anyone's face, let alone a ten year old boy. The kind that spoke volumes of horrors untold and maybe, just maybe, shed a little light on why Isaac acted the way he did. Stiles promised himself he would ask Isaac later. He would get him alone and he would ask him and he would _do_ something if what he suspected was true. Like tell his dad for starters. But first...bathroom. Stiles glanced over his shoulder as he approached the restroom area, but didn't see any sign of Mr. Lahey. He skidded inside and almost sobbed with relief when he saw a couple of other guys at the urinals. Stiles was too shy to just whip it out there in the open with them so he practically threw himself inside one of the stalls, unzipped his fly and went to town. He pissed for a long time and silently cursed the number of sodas he had ingested that day. He could now hear the two men laughing at some joke and washing their hands at the sink. 

 

And Stiles couldn't stop peeing. 

 

 _Don't leave, don't leave, don't leave yet_ his mind chanted. Mr. Lahey wasn't stupid. He would figure out which bathroom Stiles was in and he would come in here and _No, don't think about that!_ Stiles commanded himself. With a start he realized he couldn't hear the men outside anymore and he hurriedly zipped up and stumbled out of the bathroom to the sinks. He had just finished washing his hands and thinking he was home free when Mr. Lahey stepped inside. Stiles froze. His sharp eyes didn't miss that Mr. Lahey was deliberately blocking the way to the exit.

 

"Stiles, you know you shouldn't run off like that. What if something had happened to you on my watch?" Mr. Lahey was smiling as he was talking but, to Stiles, it almost seemed disconnected. Like the words _seemed_ pleasant enough, but the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. In fact, now that he looked at the man closely, it appeared as if no one was home, like Mr. Lahey was just a shell and was just going through the motions.

 

"I don't need a babysitter." Stiles said easily and made to move for the exit. _Keep calm, keep calm, you can do this_ "I'm done anyway, so we can go now."

 

Mr. Lahey grinned and started rolling up the sleeves on his sweater. "What's the rush, kid?"

 

"Uh...the rush is my mother who has just been taken to the hospital." Stiles said sarcastically. "So if you don't mind..."

 

"Stop playing hard to get, kid." The grin slid off of the man's face just as if some invisible person in the room had flipped a switch and Stiles realized with a jolt that Isaac's dad was crazy. He didn't know _how_ he knew. He just did. He was having one of those things that his teacher had been talking about in English class the other day. How the main character had realized something very important in a sudden moment of clarity. And Stiles was like that main character, having one of those moments _right the fuck now_ and he couldn't even remember what the word was in his panic. All he knew was that he wanted out of there, back out into the crowds of people heading towards the exit, back out to where his best friend and his mom and cousin stood. 

 

Back out to freedom. But first he had to get around this crazy fuck standing in front of him. "I'm not playing anything, Mr. Lahey. I swear."

 

The man grinned as if the switch was flipped again, stepping forward in the small space separating them, eyes boring into Stiles. "I saw you watching me today, kid. Always following my every move. And that _mouth_ of yours. It's just begging me to give you what you want. What all you little cockteases want."

 

Stiles was gasping out loud now in fright. Mr. Lahey was slowly advancing on him and he wanted so very badly to back away, but his father's voice sounded in his head _Backing away shows fear, son. Stand your ground in front of a growling dog and stare him in the eye. Stare him down, son._ He's pretty sure this was not what his father had in mind, and Mr. Lahey was definitely no dog, but Stiles figured it was semantics and he glared Mr. Lahey down. "I was watching you all day because my father taught me to spot child predators. How's that little hobby working out for ya, you fucking creep?"

 

"Why you little--"

 

Stiles never did find out what Mr. Lahey was about to call him because two things happened suddenly:

 

1) Someone outside started tugging at the doorknob in frustration and 

 

2) Stiles realized that Mr. Lahey had locked the bathroom door.

 

Terror slammed into him and Stiles opened his mouth to scream. Mr. Lahey lunged and managed to clamp a sweaty hand over his mouth before the sound could come out and Stiles struggled in his hold, desperately trying to call out to the person on the other side to help him. The two of them tussled violently and Stiles kicked the man's shin viciously, causing Mr. Lahey's grip to loosen and Stiles gathered air into his lungs and screamed as loud as he could. 

 

Nothing happened. Whoever it had been on the other side of the door had given up and left. Stiles screamed again and again, hoping someone would hear him before pain suddenly blossomed in his right temple. Mr. Lahey looked positively unhinged by now and Stiles had the fleeting thought as to how people couldn't _see_ the truth in these lunatics. How they just glossed right on over them and allowed these crazies to walk around freely. He thought all of these things as Isaac's father pressed his face into the cold tiles of the wall and struck him again in the back of the head. 

 

And again. 

 

Stiles grew dizzy then, everything fuzzy around the edges. _Just like Mom_ he thought hysterically and he was dimly aware of Mr. Lahey ranting behind him. Ranting about how Stiles had asked for this, how all the little fuckers asked for it, spittle flying from his mouth and wetting Stiles' face. He felt Mr. Lahey drag his pants down roughly, ripping at his underwear and Stiles started humming then, humming loudly in his mind. He'd seen a case like this on _AMW_ last week. A boy a little older than him had been violated in his school by his teacher during detention. Stiles remembered the boy saying that the only way he could stay sane was to blank it all out. Just float away and pretend it was happening to someone else. So that was what Stiles was going to do. He was going to pretend. He was going to pretend his ass off to get through this and then he was going to tell his father and Mark Stilinski would tear Mr. Lahey's body limb from limb.

 

He was just feeling something huge and hard bumping against his most private of places when Stiles heard the toilet flush in the end stall. It flushed and kept flushing and it startled Mr. Lahey enough that it distracted him from what he was trying to do. Stiles couldn't move if he tried, he was too pinned, but he managed to crane his head to the other side and stare at the stall closest to the door. Was someone in here with them? Were they just too afraid to show themselves? He was just about to try and call out when the toilet in the next stall over started flushing too. And then the next stall over. And the next. 

 

What the fuck was going on?

 

Apparently Mr. Lahey was thinking the same thing. He kept his iron clad grip on Stiles but all thoughts of rape had fled his mind by that point. There was something almost _pointed_ about the continued flushing, something harsh and creepy in the silence of the bathroom. Stiles kept his eyes on the stall by the exit, partly because his movement was limited, but also partly because something was happening. Shadows were gathering in the corner by that stall, dark wisps and tendrils coiling seemingly in midair. Stiles was scared shitless but he was also grateful to them, because they had stopped Mr. Lahey from hurting him--at least for the time being. 

 

"W-Who's there?" Mr. Lahey barked, voice trembling from fear. He pressed Stiles further into the wall, but it was an unconscious movement, his full attention was on the same stall by the door. "Show yourself!"

 

Nothing happened except the shadows seemed to grow thicker, more dense. The toilets kept flushing. Stiles held his breath.

 

Mr. Lahey was torn between fury and fear and he didn't seem--as most unbalanced people do--to be able to process these two emotions in the most healthy of manners. He shoved Stiles into the wall again and Stiles felt something crack, but then the man released him almost immediately. Stiles slid down the wall in a heap, pants and underwear caught around his ankles, bare ass on the floor. His thankfully still virgin ass, bless the heavens, so Stiles didn't care too much that he was sitting half naked on the dirty floor. 

 

 _Get up!_ his mind shrieked at him. _Get out while he's distracted! You think he won't come back to finish what he started? GET UP!_

 

But something made Stiles stay right where he was. He watched in almost detached fascination as Mr. Lahey reached the stall on the end and right at the same moment, all the toilets stopped flushing. Stiles saw the shadows seem to curl in on Mr. Lahey as he reached for the door. He felt it was his duty to warn the man because while Mr. Lahey was a grade A prick, Stiles was a good person, and good people warned others who were about to do something monumentally stupid.

 

"Don't open that." He whispered fuzzily just as Mr. Lahey opened the stall door with a bang.

 

If you asked Stiles a few hours later, he still wouldn't be able to describe what happened next in those moments. When they questioned him later at the station, his father a worried wreck in the room beside him, Stiles would only be able to say: "I don't know what happened to Mr. Lahey."

 

"Did he touch you, son? They found you with your pants and underwear around your ankles in the bathroom."

 

Stiles stared at the interrogating officer blankly. "I...don't know." He said finally. He looked to his father and his dad gave him an encouraging nod. "I mean I don't remember."

 

"You don't remember if he touched you anywhere? Anywhere he shouldn't have? Was there anyone else in the room with you?"

 

Stiles whimpered. "I don't remember!" He said sharply and he would go quiet after that then at the station, all through the examination at the hospital ( _"He wasn't raped Mr. and Mrs. Stilinski."_ ) and for three weeks after that, listening to his mother sob in the next room because she was worried about her son, but she was also devastated by her test results and the tumor currently eating away at her brain...

 

All that would eventually happen, but right now Stiles was in the present and Mr. Lahey had opened the bathroom stall and Stiles watched with detached horror as the shadows just fucking _swarmed_ the man. They pulsed over and around him and Mr. Lahey was screaming in agony, like someone was flaying the skin off of his bones. The shadows pulled him into the bathroom stall and the door slammed shut behind them, but not before Stiles saw someone or...or _something_ standing just inside the door. Someone or something with electric blue eyes tinged in red. 

 

They raised a finger to their lips, because Stiles couldn't tell if it was a male or female or if he was just losing his mind. "Shhhhhhhh."

 

Mr. Lahey was still screaming, over and over again, with increasing volume and after a bit, Stiles started to join him. Blood started to spill out from under the stall in a rapidly growing pool of red and suddenly Mr. Lahey stopped screaming. The sound just cut off with a gurgle--as if his throat had been ripped out.

 

Stiles continued to scream though, all of this too much for his nine year old mind to handle, and that was how the park employees found him fifteen minutes later, sitting half naked in a pool of blood, in a locked bathroom, nearly catatonic with fear. 

 

Mrs. McCall rushed inside along with park security and they tried to keep Scott and Isaac out, but the two boys stubbornly resisted and they raced to Stiles' side. He barely acknowledged their presence as Scott frantically called his name and wrapped his small body around him as if to shield Stiles' nudity. Isaac stared at him soberly, eyes haunted and looking suddenly older than his years. Stiles finally seemed to realize where he was and he patted Scott's shoulder absently.

 

"Scotty?" He croaked, his voice long abused from all the shouting he had done. 

 

"Yeah, yeah Stiles I'm here." Scott was crying. "We were so worried."

 

Stiles wasn't even listening. He felt like he was unraveling at the seams, like he would completely come undone if someone pulled the string. "It's an epiphany, Scott. An _epiphany_."

 

And then he passed out.


	2. Happy Birthday Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right everyone, just warning you, this chapter starts the Lydia/Stiles dynamic. I know that it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I really like this pairing, as well as Stiles/Derek and Stiles/Lydia/Derek. Whenever I write in this fandom, I'm going to play around with those pairings as much as possible because they are my favorites and I crave them like _air_. 
> 
> That being said, this _is_ a Stiles/Derek fic. Sterek is endgame. So for those of you who find that Lydia and Stiles together make your eyes bleed, please take comfort in that. :)
> 
> Love to all of you who reviewed and left kudos. <3

December 10th, 2012

 

When Stiles dreamed, it was in hues of electric blue.

Not all the time, of course. Just in those in between moments when you're half awake and asleep, just about to open your eyes but still stubbornly clinging to blessed unawareness. 

That is where Stiles dreamed about _that_ night and the horror and the blue eyes boring into his from just beyond the bathroom stall. Beyond the shadows that killed Mr. Lahey.

Beyond the brink of madness that still threatened Stiles' sanity sometimes to this day.

And like every other time, when he wakes, he never remembers any of it. Just a strange feeling of loss--like he's been chasing something that keeps dancing out of reach.

Or that something keeps chasing him.

On this particular early December morning, snuggled down in the downy warmth of his blue comforter, Stiles woke up to a pressure on his legs and a gentle brush of plush lips against his mouth. He opened his eyes to stare into bright green and fiery radiance and _not blue not blue not blue_ he feels his breath catch even as a shiver of disappointment niggles at him.

"Morning, Lydia." He croaked, still groggy and unwilling to relinquish his hold on his sleep. "What are you doing, you creeper?"

Her lips curved into a smile. "Waiting for you to wake your lazy ass up." She ran a finger down his bare torso, circling a nipple teasingly enough that made his cock twitch in interest. "Thought we could go for round three, but your dad is up now."

Stiles' eyes flew open at the mention of his father. "Oh shit! He didn't come in, did he?" At her arched eyebrow, he rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, yeah, that was a stupid question. Here let me up."

 

Lydia pouted but moved aside nevertheless, the covers falling off her body and offering Stiles a tantalizing view of miles and miles of creamy, pale skin. She stretched out on his bed shamelessly, green eyes daring him, and Stiles had to visibly shake himself. "No fair, Lydia."

 

"Since when have you known me to play fair, Stilinski?"

 

"Point." Stiles sighed. "Just let me go say goodbye to my dad, okay?"

 

He stood up and stretched, lean muscles slowly unknotting. Slipping into his boxers, Stiles padded downstairs to the kitchen and found his father sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. Sheriff Stilinski smiled warmly at Stiles and stood to give him a hug. "Happy birthday, kiddo. How does it feel to be seventeen?"

 

"The same as it did when I was sixteen, to be honest." Stiles chuckled. "You all packed?"

 

His father winced. "Don't remind me. I hate that this seminar had to fall on your birthday weekend."

 

Stiles shrugged. "It's fine, Dad. I'm not a little kid and I know these things sometimes happen. We'll celebrate when you get back."

 

"You remember the emergency numbers, right? Melissa's?"

 

Stiles stared at his father like he was insane. "You're kidding me, right?"

 

Mark Stilinski sighed. "Okay, yes...I'm acting like a crazy person. I get it. It's just that this is the first time I've ever left you alone for more than a night--and those nights you were at Scott's. I just worry okay?"

 

Yes. Stiles was very aware of what his father was worried about. 

 

He didn't handle being _alone_ very well. Not anymore.

 

Not since what happened to Mr. Lahey.

 

The police had never found him after his attack on Stiles. But Stiles had known they wouldn't. No one would ever find Mr. Lahey again, of _that_ he was sure.

 

"I won't be alone. I'm hanging out with Scott and everyone this weekend to celebrate. Since school's out for the winter holidays, we can stay up as late as we want. It's going to be awesome."

 

"And Scott's gonna sleep over?"

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes." Technically it wasn't a lie. Scott _would_ be sleeping over--just probably not with Stiles.  
"Dad, come on. If all else fails, I'll just call emergency. What was it again? Nine two three?"

 

The Sheriff was not amused. "Not funny, kid."

 

"Aw come on, Dad. It was a little funny." 

 

"No," The Sheriff said and pulled Stiles in for another bone breaking hug. "It really wasn't."

 

After his dad had pulled out of the driveway with a wave, Stiles wandered back upstairs. The shower was already running by the time he reached the landing and he smiled. Lydia really didn't like to waste time. "You're lucky that my dad didn't catch you." He shouted to her from the hallway. "It would have been really hard to explain why the shower started running while I was still downstairs."

 

Lydia stuck her head out the bathroom and flipped him off, steam billowing out behind her. "I'm not stupid, Stiles. Although I am sleeping with you, so maybe I should rethink that statement."

 

"You know you can't get enough of this." Stiles shot back jokingly while gesturing at his body. 

 

She smiled at him, sweet as poison. "I'm a healthy girl and I have needs. You're just one way of getting those needs met, birthday boy."

 

"Oh, so you _do_ remember it's my birthday. I was beginning to wonder." Stiles really enjoyed their banter. Lydia was one of the few people who could match his wit and sarcasm without batting an eye. 

 

"I was the first person to wish you a happy one last night, Stiles. Or have you forgotten the fantastic blowjob I gave you already?"

 

Stiles pretended to think about it. "Nope, drawing a blank here."

 

Lydia's eyes narrowed at him and she growled. "Get in here, asshole. I'm going to make you eat your words."

 

Arousal pooled low in his groin and he swallowed. "Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute." Stiles raced into his bedroom and grabbed his towel off the back of his desk chair. As he was leaving, his gaze fell on the closet door directly across from his bed. It was open, the door about a foot away from the frame. He could see his clothes hanging haphazardly inside.

 

Stiles was pretty sure he'd closed the closet the night before.

 

He was one hundred percent sure of this because ever since _the incident_ Stiles hated being alone. He hated dark spaces and darkness in general and tried to avoid all situations at all costs. When he couldn't avoid being alone, he was prone to turning on every single light in the house and keeping a flashlight on his person at all times. 

 

When it came to doors--especially closet doors--well that was simple. He shut them. 

 

Every single time. Without fail.

 

Stiles could not sleep if his closet door was open. All he would end up doing the entire night was lying still in his bed, watching the closet and hyperventilating until it ended up in a full blown panic attack. So no, Stiles wouldn't have forgotten to close it. He had one of those doors that actually _shut_ when you closed it. Not the kind that almost shut and then pushed back out slightly when you released it or the spring hinged ones that kept swinging back open annoyingly if it didn't latch properly. The only way for his closet door to be open now is if someone had opened it.

 

Someone who wasn't him.

 

 _Lydia_ his brain supplied with relief. She probably went looking for a shirt of his to wear or something while he had been downstairs, even though he had told her to stay out of his closet many times before and she had brought her own spare change of clothes when she'd snuck in last night.

 

Right.

 

Stiles stared at the open door, then back at his bed and then back at the closet door again. The way it was open...it was almost as if

 

_someone from the inside_

 

there was a fault with the wood frame

 

_had pushed it open_

 

and since the frame was warped

 

 _and had been_ watching _them last night_

 

maybe from old age

 

_He and Lydia_

 

maybe from the weather

 

_Fucking_

 

"I should get Dad to check that out." Stiles whispered, almost as if he was in a trance of some sort. He continued to stare helplessly into the closet and... were those still his clothes in there? They looked different somehow, darker even. 

 

Cloaked in shadows.

 

 _"Shhhhhhhh."_ The memory hits Stiles abruptly and he is startled to realize that he's moved without noticing it. Right up to the closet door and reaching out to...to

 

It is pitch black inside now. He cannot see his clothes or _anything_ and he is not alone. Yes, he thinks frantically, Lydia is here, but it's not Lydia here with him now. Not Lydia inside the closet, not Lydia watching him from that terrible darkness.

 

A cold sweat breaks out on his skin and Stiles is terrified. Not of being alone this time, but ironically of _not_ being alone. He is scared shitless and alarmed to find that his cock is rock hard and straining in his boxers. Rock hard and aching to be touched and he just _wants_. He wants so very much to go into that darkness in his closet and...

 

"Stiles?" Lydia's muffled shout jerks him out of his stupor. "You coming or not?"

 

Stiles jerks backwards, his lacrosse jersey brushing against his cheek and _when did I actually go inside there oh my god_ slams the door shut. He is breathing hard, sweat running down his face and his towel is on the floor. 

 

_What the actual fuck?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. Thoughts? Guesses? :)


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